Reconciling Places. Paul A. Hoffman

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      Standing on the left: Pastor Steve Robinson. Standing on Steve’s right, holding the microphone, Pastor Paul Hoffman. For over fourteen years, we have been best friends and co-laborers in the ministry of reconciliation. (Photograph courtesy of Ryan Belmore, Whatsupnewp.)

      1. Galvin, “Coronavirus Survey,” US News & World Report, May 27, 2020. https://www.usnews.com/news/healthiest-communities/articles/2020-05-27/one-third -of-us-adults-have-signs-of-depression-anxiety-during-pandemic.

      2. Belmore, “NAACP Prayer Vigil,” Whatsupnewp, June 1, 2020. https://whatsupnewp.com/2020/06/video-naacp-prayer-vigil-for-racial-justice-held-in-newport/.

      3. Damon, “Peaceful vigil,” Newport Daily News, June 1, 2020. https://www.newportri.com/news/20200601/peaceful-vigil-held-in-newport-in-wake-of-george-floydrsquos -killing.

      4. Hoffman, “A Way Forward,” Newport This Week, June 4, 2020. https://www.newportthisweek.com/articles/a-way-forward/?fbclid=IwAR2PI8xGj937dewvRE3OrQdiecXF5DnpUm6D6bTa6fNB3RdP1v8fVl_6FKk; Hoffman and Kim, “Four Ways Church Leaders Can Inspire Racial Healing,” Influence Magazine, June 10, 2020. https://influencemagazine.com/en/Practice/Four-Ways-Church-Leaders-Can-Inspire-Racial-Healing; Hoffman, “Activism 101: How Churches Can Respond to the Death of George Floyd,” ChurchLeaders, June 15, 2020. https://churchleaders.com/outreach-missions/outreach-missions-articles/377212-activism-101-how-churches-can-respond-to-the-death-of-george-floyd.html.

      Acknowledgments

      There are copious people to thank for their profound contributions to this book. First, I praise and honor the triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for creating me, regenerating me, and providing me with the gifts, abilities, experience, training, passions, empowerment, and determination to run this race. My deepest desire is to glorify you in my life, ministry, and writing.

      To Albert and Kellie Fassbender: I cannot begin to thank you enough for your invaluable input and editing prowess (both this book and my PhD thesis!).

      To Trip Wolfskehl: thanks for the ongoing encouragement and for providing the Newport Bridge graphic. You are a great friend.

      To Drew Harris and Trisha Bruce: thank you for compiling the bibliography.

      To Stephen Robinson: you have been a friend, mentor, and co-laborer. I praise God for your influence over my life and ministry.

      To my parents and siblings: Mom, Dad, Kate, Melissa, Caleb, and Will. Thanks for your support and prayers. Ubuntu.

      To the leaders and people of EFC: thank you for putting up with your intermittently distracted pastor. This book is dedicated to you.

      To my wife Autumn, and sons, Landon and Kelan: you mean more to me than I can ever express. You inspire me to write. I am deeply grateful for your patience and granting me the freedom to toil in this way.

      Thank you Cascade Books and my editor Rodney Clapp for believing in me and making this book possible.

      Introduction: Our Place—the Divided States of America

      On Friday morning, July 8, 2016, I awoke to the troubling news on my iPhone. Tears initiated an unauthorized launch sequence in my eyes, a rare and unwelcome occurrence for a man of stoic roots—Midwestern and German to be exact. A swirl of emotions collided within me: sadness, righteous anger, fear, and helplessness. The phrase “Enough is enough!” ricocheted around my mind.

Overnight, a sniper had shot twelve law enforcement officers in downtown Dallas, Texas. Five of these public servants died. The cruel irony was that they were supporting a peaceful protest in response to two deaths—only days earlier—involving altercations with police. On Tuesday, July 5, Alton Sterling, a thirty-seven-year-old black male, was shot in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, outside a convenience store. Then on Wednesday, July 6, officer Jeronimo Yanez, during a seemingly routine traffic stop outside Saint Paul, Minnesota, shot Philando Castile, a young black male. Castile’s girlfriend, Diamond Reynolds, streamed the aftermath on Facebook Live. Viewers watched Philando fall unconscious as he slowly bled to death. I was horrified to hear Reynolds’s four-year-old daughter, Dae’Anna, comfort her mother while attempting to process this tragic event: “It’s OK, Mommy . . . it’s OK, I’m right here with you. . . . Mom, please stop cussing and screaming ’cause I don’t want you to get shooted. . . . I wish this town was safer. I don’t want it to be like this anymore.”1

This little girl was not alone in her fear and confusion. On Friday, July 8, the Bahamas issued a travel advisory to Bahamians entering the United States: “Young males are asked to exercise extreme caution in affected cities in their interactions with the police. Do not be confrontational and cooperate.”2 For many Americans this news felt surreal: Since when did tourists need to fear to vacation in the United States?

I gathered my emotions, paced my bedroom floor, and passionately prayed. I asked God for wisdom because to do nothing seemed wrong. Finally, I told my wife I wanted to call an impromptu prayer meeting at noon in front of Newport (Rhode Island) City Hall. I started to compose a text message to some of my pastor friends in the area, inviting them to join me. Then I stopped: a different tone was required. I rewrote the text. Instead of making a tentative appeal, I notified them I was following God’s prompting and implored them to join me at our city center and publicly pray for our broken hearts and divided nation. Then I posted a statement on my Facebook account, calling for all people of faith and goodwill to gather with us and pray, and if not, to stop and pray at noon wherever they were. Ryan Belmore, the founder of Whatsupnewp.com (a hub of all things Newport), noticed my plea, and wrote a story and posted it on his popular website. Simultaneously, two sisters, Paula and Marie, our church’s3 public relations virtuosos, reached out to local media to spread the news. All of a sudden, friends and parishioners who planned to attend the rally inundated me with private messages and text messages, some offering support, others confirming details. People felt a compelling desire to connect, and this meeting was catching fire fast.

      Around 11:45, I jumped on my bike and pedaled the two miles to city hall. A crowd was forming. By about 12:05, over fifty people had gathered in the plaza in front of the imposing granite building. Far from my usual pastoral tribe of middle-aged, mostly white men, I beheld a cross section of Newport itself: elementary kids, preteens, soccer moms, retirees; those wearing designer sunglasses next to young men sporting baggy T-shirts from Walmart; black, white, brown, and biracial faces from (we estimated) ten local churches. Multiple TV stations and newspaper reporters clamored to interview the attendees.

      I called the meeting to order, stating we had gathered in response to the tragic events in Baton Rouge, Saint Paul, and Dallas. Our country was hurting. People were scared. We had come together to pray because prayer makes a difference—it changes our hearts, if not always our circumstances. It unites people in powerful ways. Anyone who wants to pray can pray: silently, out loud, through song, in any way he or she feels led.

      And pray we did: for over an hour perfect strangers staged an impromptu revival meeting. They held hands, poured out their hearts in prayer, wept, sang, laughed, cheered, and shouted “Amen!” The reporters stood fixated and kept filming to the very end. Afterward, many of the attendees hung around, introduced themselves to each another, exchanged cell numbers (or friend СКАЧАТЬ